three steps from the edge
Characters: Kyuubi!Naruto (sanninlegacy ) versus all comers
When: 24 hours after his capture
Where: THE WHOLE DAMN CITY
Rating: R (There will be blood, oh yes)
Summary: The extraction is complete. Naruto isn't himself. The city will not be the same.
( he has a nature so malign and evil that he never sates his greedy will, and after food is hungrier than before )
When: 24 hours after his capture
Where: THE WHOLE DAMN CITY
Rating: R (There will be blood, oh yes)
Summary: The extraction is complete. Naruto isn't himself. The city will not be the same.
( he has a nature so malign and evil that he never sates his greedy will, and after food is hungrier than before )
For once, he had summoned no fog to conceal him, though he'd chosen a vantage point hidden from those poor heroic souls who'd doubtless come by in their effort to stop what was going on within. He sat high in a leafless tree, polished his hook and glanced down every once in a while. He'd know when it happened, he had no doubt. He may not be able to feel power, as some of the others in the city could, but he would know. Because there would be chaos.
The roar proved him right.
Quick and ready in an instant, he slipped back down to the ground, hook and wire in hand. The snow was ankle-deep by now and the scene white, a difficult fighting ground. He was tense and expectant, eager, even thrilled. He stood ready to be the first living thing the demon would encounter leaving the warehouse, to see if Madara would set his new grand weapon on a man who had proved his ally.
Maybe, maybe not; but even if not, he suspected that this was not a fight he'd stand to miss.
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The building hadn't held him long. Once he'd dealt with the young Uchiha, Kyuubi exploded from the top of the warehouse, perching and looking out at the city that would soon taste his wrath. In his spot, he almost looked like an artistic masterpiece, beautiful and deadly as his tails swayed in the breeze.
Something caught his eye.
His head whipped downwards, hollow eyes focused on the figure in the snow.
...Kill the Konoha ninja and anyone that tries to attack you.
The man had something in his hands, and Kyuubi was very liberal in his interpretation of Madara's orders. Tightening his grip on the edge of the warehouse roof, he shot downwards and landed heavily in the snow, the ground cracking under his weight and power.
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He took a step backwards, amazed. This was definitely not something he would bring down with hook and wire, skilled though he was, and he clipped them back to his belt without taking his eyes off the beast before him. He did not need any obscure mystical sense to feel the power that radiated off it, it was palatable, tangible. Instead of a fighting stance, he poised himself to dodge, mentally going over potential safe ground from which he could fight the thing with his true power, if need be.
"What a magnificent monster you are," he said softly, with sincere admiration.
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Saul's admiration meant nothing.
Though he didn't know what Saul was capable of, Kyuubi was not afraid. He had so many weapons at his disposal that it was just a matter of picking and choosing his favorite. For now, his tails spiked up straight into the air, rigid for a brief moment before curving over his body and pointing directly at Saul.
With yet another roar, all six tails launched at Kyuubi's foe, elongating with chakra and speeding towards him.
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But only for a split-second, briefer than a heartbeat.
Then he was in battle, and he forgot all else, leaping and rolling back and down and out of the way of the tails. Without thought, the storm that had built, and built, for twenty-four long hours gathered itself and found its target, right there and then. Even as he was slipping around a corner, hunting for a way to go under or high above ground, the temperature all around him and around the demon dropped with unnatural sharpness, ice frosting over every surface. A pounding rain began, sizzling against the fiery energies, so dense and powerful that it made as good and thick a cover as a full fog. Saul's heart pounded against his ribs with wild excitement.
Maybe he wouldn't need to hold back. Not hold anything back.
He kept running. He didn't need to look back. An electric charge was building in the clouds, thick and fast.
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It was too late. He couldn't just show up and expect Kyuubi to let him flee!
Anger, rage, and frustration coiled inside the demon. He poured power into his limbs and darted off after Saul, following him and gaining ground every second. He could smell him even when he lost sight of him behind dips and rocks in the landscape. Saul wouldn't escape, and Kyuubi gave chase with reckless abandonment.
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- the lightning split the air in a discharge massive enough to burst solid rocks apart and burn through metal. It was all for Kyuubi, all that energy, and directed straight into him with all its primal might. A fierce gust of wind followed, to slam into the beast while it was preoccupied. It was not yet the height of Saul's power, but it was very, very near enough.
He knew that it was a mistake even as he was doing it, but he slowed in his run, flung himself over an improvised barricade where rubble halfway blocked the street, and turned back to watch his handiwork.
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"D-dammit! What's wrong with this place?"
All those babysitting bastards were not going to be happy with her. Not that she could of predicted something was terribly wrong.
Running in high heeled boots proved to be annoying, several times her foot fell out and pressed against the icy cold snow making her yelp. If anyone was good at causing a scene and practically saying so to it's dangerous inhabitants and monsters "HEY, COME AND GET ME!" it was Ai.
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XDDD!!!
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Saul wasn't in pain, he was never in pain, but none of his limbs were doing precisely what he meant for them to do. Of course, that he'd escaped with his life was fortune enough. It was luck incarnate. He knew that with a comforting certainty. He was unbroken, and he would live.
If his luck held.
He leaned against the door frame of the basement, blinking up at the world up the stairs. Even through the cold control of battle, it was difficult to formulate whole thoughts. He had no pain to tell him the true extent of his wounds, but he could feel wetness rasp in his lungs when he breathed deeply, and bones grind in his legs when he walked, and that wasn't very good. The real problem was the dizziness, though, the intense, paralyzing nausea, the heaviness that warned him of a severe concussion, told him that if he lost consciousness, he would die.
And it was too damned cold to stay awake. He couldn't focus enough to dismiss the storm he had called, it'd have to run its course. It was too cold, and his legs were giving out...
And then he saw her, running past the doorway on those ridiculous heels, scared and senseless. She was ideal for what he needed. His luck held beyond all reason.
"Girl," he called out, not bothering to keep the strangled note out of his voice.
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Saul. Yeah, that guy. He was good looking, she'd give him that. But otherwise? Her opinon was she couldn't say she hated him or liked him. But leaving him there didn't seem like the kogal thing to do. As much as wanted to go home and cuddle up by the fireplace, if Saul was in need of help, as long as it wasn't bad...she'd listen.
"Yes?" Calling out in her high-pitched voice, she did the best to hide the nervous tone in her voice.
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He made no threatening gestures, quite the opposite; he swayed a little where he stood, ran a hand through his blood-soaked hair to sweep it away from his face, and fixed her with a somewhat glazed over look. Saul was a good judge of people. This one was attracted to danger, fancied it. And she was compassionate in that way girls that age had. It wouldn't be too difficult.
"Come here. Please."
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She really was too trusting. Even when warned certain individuals were dangerous it didn't stop her from talking or meeting with them. Was it because she was an outcast too? There was a dirty bad side of her that revealed itself from time to time, maybe it was that part that made her risk helping others she could relate to.
"You..." Pausing for a moment as she observed his face, she noticed the blood in his hair and immediately went to her purse in search of a handkerchief. "--have blood in your hair." When she finally found it, she took the fabric up to his hair and attempted to wipe it out.
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It didn't matter, really. Nor did he nurse his pride when there was one priority only and that was surviving. Saul knew about surviving, a man did what saw him through the day. Her handkerchief came away nearly black with blood, head wounds always bled badly. He had no time for this...
His hand darted up and grabbed her wrist. His wretched state belied his strength, quite strong enough even now to twist her delicate bones into so many splinters. "You'll come with me," he rasped. "Talk. Loudly. About anything. I mustn't fall asleep."
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